Chryed Old
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: And bald.


**_A little something for a rainy day xx_**

* * *

"Post!"

Syed bounded up the stairs and jumped on the bed.

Christian rubbing sleepy eyes, yawned and propped himself up against a pillow.

"Your Dad's early this morning, Zainab must have kicked him out of the house."

"Bill, bill, bill, ooh one for you."

Christian took the white envelope from Syed and opened it pensively.

"I wonder what Masood thinks when he's delivering our post?"

Syed shook his head sadly.

"Dunno. I know the one's addressed to the both of us always look suspiciously creased, as if they may have been screwed up in a very angry fist." He mimicked the gesture.

Christian glanced up briefly from reading his letter and rubbed Syed's back sympathetically.

"As long as that's all he's doing to them. Oh no…"

Syed turned and put down the electricity bill he had been scowling at.

"What's up?"

"Someone I went to school with has died, this is the details for his funeral. Dropped down dead with a heart attack, he was the same age as me."

Syed put his arms around Christian's neck, pulling him near, murmuring;

"I'm sorry my love. Where you close?"

Christian bit his thumbnail, deep in thought.

"Not really. In fact he was a bit of an arrogant knob, always had a battery of choice gay insults on hand. But I'd known him since I was six. And to die so young!"

Syed took the piece of paper from him and read it through.

"He was bungee jumping off a waterfall at the time."

"I know, but still. The same age as me! Do you think I should go to the doctors?"

Syed laughed kindly.

"Are you planning to jump out of the shower holding an elastic band? There is no one fitter than you Christian, in so many ways."

Christian raised worried eyes to meet Syed's, his brow furrowed.

"He ran marathons, played squash, ate lentils."

He placed his hand on his chest, feverishly feeling for his heartbeat.

Syed stood up and scooped the discarded envelopes from the top of the duvet.

"Come on you, get up, this isn't like you at all. I'm taking you for a walk, get this nonsense out of your head."

They strolled, along the tow path, shoulders touching, the thin wintry sun warm on the backs of their jackets. Tall industrial red brick buildings loomed on the opposite side of the canal, their small metal framed windows cracked and dusty, hanging rakishly on rusty hinges. Buddleia bushes sprouted weedily from cracks between the bricks. Syed registered the desolation with a shiver, ceased in swinging the plastic bag of stale bread that he was clutching in one hand.

"Where've the ducks gone?" he asked, eyes searching down the canal.

" Giant seagulls have eaten them. Look, there's a dead hedgehog."

Christian pointed at a wet brown bristly object, caught in a small eddy, silver ripples dancing around as it bobbed away from them. Syed bent and peered more closely.

"It's a scrubbing brush. You need your eyes tested."

Christian moodily swept an empty beer can from the bench, sending it clattering onto the mud.

"Don't Syed. You'll be telling me I'm deaf next."

They both sat down gingerly, trying not to think about what bodily fluids might be ingrained in the wood beneath them.

" I can tell you what I like, you won't be able to hear me."

Christian stared across the water, hands hanging loosely between his knees.

"Ha ha ha, very funny. God, I'm so old."

"Will you stop this. Duck!"

Christian obliged. Smiling, Syed dug him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Fool. Look. He's brought all his mates!"

A small flotilla of birds scooted towards them, quacking loudly as Syed untied the top of the bread bag. He passed a crust over to Christian, who crumbled the corner morosely.

"Seriously though Sy, When I'm sixty, you'll still be in your forties. What will you want with an old git like me?"

Syed tried to get a breadcrumb near a small runty looking duck who kept being chivvied away by the rest.

"That's a question I already ask myself every single day. You've gone mad Christian. You'll still be up on the dance floor, still be the one getting all the attention."

Christian grunted.

"Hmm. Probably for all the wrong reasons, they'll be waiting to see if my hip goes or I mess myself."

He lobbed a piece of bread into the middle of the ducks, causing them to squabble noisily, pecking at each other as they fought over it.

Syed tapped him on the head with the empty bag.

"I give up. You are decrepit and ancient and you'll probably go bald."

Christian grimaced.

"Please no, not that. I shall get a weave, a transplant, put pubes on my head."

"You could wear a jaunty syrup."

Syed began to giggle at the mental picture he had conjured up.

"I can subtly adjust it for you when it starts slipping."

Christian pinched him lightly on the thigh.

"You're not helping. What if you go off me? What if I can no longer give you what you need? What if you sneak about behind my back, racing around Walford in your red open top sports car with your toy boy by your side while I'm playing Bowls or up the allotment."

"You could take me up the allotment.."

Christian covered his mouth and sniggered childishly.

"…with you. You are a filthy man Clarke."

Syed picked up Christian's hand and pressed soft lips against the palm.

"And what if planets collide? What if a meteor crashes into the chip shop? What if we both wake up tomorrow as giant insects?"

"What if Sy?"

"One thing will still be certain. There will never, ever come a time when I don't love you. I can't not love you."

Christian gently held Syed's face, turning it up to meet his, and kissed him slowly, stopping only when a swan flew over their heads, briefly blocking the sun's rays, the whirr of it's beating wings echoing against the warehouse walls.

"Truly?"

"Truly." Syed took his hand and pulled him upright. "Let's go home, cheer you up. I'll give you a massage, rub something into your poor old muscles."

The twinkle flashed back into Christian's eye and he smiled broadly.

"Preferably yourself."


End file.
